Cuba Libre
by el camaron pelao
Summary: Each going about their troubled lives but unknowingly coming together for a specific moment, they crossed paths like two cars at an intersection. It could only be more than a coincidence that they kept bumping into each other like this. And he actually had his shit son to thank.
1. Chapter 1

The first time they met was after his shit son drugged him. He was just coming off his psychedelic trip, threw up, and didn't know where the fuck he was or what happened to his clothes.

"Oh hey, are you alright?"

He turned around to find a woman in activewear and a duffel bag slung across her shoulder. She looked as if she were heading to the gym, or something of the like, with her hair up in a messy bun and a water bottle in her hand.

"Where am I?" his mind was still fuzzy.

"Umm, I think this is Dunstable. The bike place is right there," she pointed back over her shoulder. "Oh! Here," she handed him the water bottle.

Suddenly feeling parched, he gladly took it. Opening it, the sound of the breaking seal told him it was brand new. Not that he really cared at that moment. Chugging the water, she explained that she had seen him wandering around mumbling and yelling obscenities at some guy named, Jimmy. She noticed a cop approaching and told him he was with her. He was off the hook so long as she stayed with him and here they were now.

"Thanks," he shook the now empty bottle. "But also, thanks. I don't even know who you are, yet you've prevented me from spending the night in a jail cell. So, thanks."

"Nah," she shrugged. "You don't seem homeless or any of the sort. Just someone having a bad day."

A bad day eh? She could fucking say that again.

"That reminds me, here," she pulled another bottle from her bag and handed it to him. It was also brand new, read _Electrolit_ across the bottle, and was rectangular in shape. "It's called suero. I'm not sure how it translates in English but it's basically electrolytes that help in dehydration and recovery and such," she pointed to the vomit pile. "I'm pretty sure you'll be racking up a headache after whatever trip you were on, that should definitely help."

 _Fuck me man,_ he thought. Just his luck. A beautiful woman comes to his aid only for them to be standing next to a pile of his vomit. Taking a sip of the drink, it wasn't bad; plus had a cherry flavor to it.

"I wish I had something to pay you back with, really," he said in earnest. "It's not everyday someone stops to help some drugged, half naked, fat old man. Much less a lady such as yourself."

She smiled and waved her hands dismissively. "Nonono, don't worry about it. I'm just glad you woke up at all. After walking around, you just lied down and stayed like that for a while. I'm relieved you're okay."

A car honking nearby got their attention.

"Oh right! I called a cab for you earlier," she turned to see their driver waving at them. "Didn't want to risk anymore cops. Shall we go?"

Jesus whoever sent this woman, god fucking bless.

Getting in the cab and bidding her a final thank you through the window, the last thing he saw was her smile that expressed genuine relief at his wellbeing. So caught up in the fact that actual good people still existed in the world, he hadn't realized they were so close to his residence and had almost instantly arrived.

"Here man," the driver held out money to Michael.

"What's this?" he slowly took it.

"Your change."

What? Change? Change for what?

Noticing Michael's confused expression, the driver explained. "The hot chick paid 200 for your fare. This is your change."

 _JESUS_. That was enough to take him out of town and back.

"Are we done here or ya got somewhere else to go?"

Michael shook his head as he got out, thanked the driver, and walked up to his mansion to finish up the rest of this shit day.

The second time they met was outside Bean Machine on the corner of Vespucci Boulevard and Peaceful Street. It wasn't so much a meeting as it was walking by and recognizing someone he knew accompanied by someone else he knew.

With all the shit going on in his life, he needed space, he needed air, he needed _distractions_. Finding himself wandering the streets debating on whether or not to pay his shrink a visit, he swore he heard something or rather someone familiar.

"… know what I'm saying?"

Was… Was that Mota? With that voice and accent, it had to be him. And it came from the direction of Bean Machine.

Approaching, Mota's back was to him and sitting across from him was… was _her_. It was _her_! From the other day! They were having a conversation and by all the power in him, he couldn't figure out why he had sat down a few tables over to try to listen in.

" _Please_ Luis, that's all I'm asking you to do…"

Luis? Mota? Perhaps a middle name or something. By the way they were speaking, they seemed close and familiar with each other. He wondered their relationship as he tried to make out what they were saying but a lot of it was in Spanish with the occasional English dropped in.

"…is just be my date. No work on your part. And I'll even give you like, half."

Oh? Sounded like a job.

"… but you gotta get my _tejana_. I don't go wearing that stuff around here. You know what I'm saying?" Mota replied.

She clasped her hands and nodded cheerfully. "Yes absolutely, I'll get the hat. So, we got a deal?" she extended her hand across the table and they shook on it. Standing up, they bid their goodbyes with a small hug and kiss on the cheek and went their separate ways.

He waited for a minute before getting up himself and walking in the direction she headed. He saw her up ahead hailing a cab. A part of him wanted to run and call out to her to get her attention, to properly thank her for the other day. But a part of him felt at a loss for words.

Caught up in his thoughts, she was gone before he knew it. Small world that he'd seen her twice and still didn't even know her name.

But man did she have a beautiful smile.


	2. Chapter 2

The third time they met was when he took on a small job for Lester.

Lester had been curt on the details other than he needed someone taken care of. Michael didn't really care. He trusted Lester plus it was something to do aside from the usual bullshit currently plaguing his life. All he knew was that it would be quick in and out with little to no resistance. Sounded easy enough especially if it was in the middle of the day.

Leaving his rental in an alley around the block, he straightened out his suit while rounding the corner only to find the street littered with emergency personnel and the building on lockdown. Two ambulances and four police cars from what he could see. To get a better view of the situation, he approached and joined a small muttering crowd gathered across the building. When paramedics started to emerge with a covered body on a stretcher, the crowd started to chatter.

"Oh the poor boy. I heard police mentioning something about a stabbing," said one.

"How awful, Felix didn't deserve such an end. Very kind when I'd see him in the halls. May he rest in peace," said another.

He listened in long enough to get the information he needed before stepping away from the crowd to give Lester a call. As he waited to tell Lester that someone else got to their man, despite some uncertainties he had, he saw her… Or at least he thought he saw her… A little ways on the other side of the crowd. He walked towards her, carefully weaving through the people when sure enough there she was. She was talking to someone on her phone while looking at the scene amongst others on the sidewalk. For sure this time he would-

"Yes hello?" it was Lester.

Blinking, it took Michael a second to process that Lester had answered. "You're good man," was all that came out as he stepped aside once again.

"Perfect," came Lester's response as the call ended.

Putting his phone away, he turned back to look for her along the sidewalk only to nearly bump into someone passing by. "Hey watch it-" his words caught in his throat as they stared at each other for a few seconds before her face lit up and she smiled at him.

"Hey, you're that guy! Hi!"

"Hey yourself. We were never able to introduce ourselves. I'm Michael, pleasure to meet you," he extended his hand out to her.

"No no the pleasure's all mine. Miro," she shook his hand.

Her hand felt soft, delicate even, in his much larger one, countered by the firmness of her shake.

"Fancy meeting you out here," he tried to make conversation, but couldn't help notice she just kept staring at him.

Snapping out of her reverie, she stepped back to take a good look at him. "I'm sorry, it's just… wow, you look great! _Way_ better than that other day," she smiled up at him.

Michael held his arms out and let them fall to his sides, receiving compliments from beautiful women in public was something new to him. "Thank you. I'm more than just puke and underwear."

"And piss," she added.

"What." was his immediate reply. His heart would have dropped to the bottom of his chest in horror if she hadn't laughed and said she was joking. "Had me worried there for a sec," he shook his head.

"I'm glad you're alright," her smile was once again genuine as he distinctly remembered it from haze of the other day. He could tell by her eyes. It was always in the eyes. Speaking of, hers were a nice hazel color that seemed to shine reflected by the sun.

"About that, look, I really gotta pay you back," he reached into his wallet to pull out two hundred dollars, but she refused to accept it when he held it out to her.

"Nonono you don't have to, really," she insisted.

"No really, I do," he insisted as well, money still in hand. "It's more of a mark on my conscious if I don't. And I really don't want any more of those."

"It's a mark on _my_ conscious if I _do_ take your money," she took a step back.

After another back and forth he sighed, pocketing the money. They were at an impasse. But he really needed to repay her. "Alright, well, it's noon, right? Let me at least buy you lunch, or something, if you won't take my money… assuming you're not busy that is," he added. He didn't want to keep her, and god only knew if he was already wasting her time as it were.

"That…" she trailed off, as if thinking about his offer. "Sounds nice."

"Awesome." Finally, an agreement. "So, what do you like? A cup of coffee? Ice cream? Pizza? Tacos? Wait- fuck, no that's racist-"

She laughed, "Why? Because I look Mexican?"

"Yes- I mean, no. Wait- I mean-" Fuck.

"It's all good," she chuckled, waving her hands assuringly. "As much as I actually do love tacos, I'm actually feeling a tea this coffee place nearby has."

"Junior's Café?"

"Yes!" she snapped her fingers, pointing at him.

Wow, perfect. It was right around the block plus his car was parked next to the place.

Motioning for them to take their leave, she nodded, walking alongside him. Walking past the people lining the sidewalk made him nearly forget they were standing outside a murder scene.

"Crazy stuff," she commented, as they both glanced over.

He nodded. Crazy but not uncommon. That was Los Santos for ya.

Making their way to their destination, they made small talk as he inquired more about her without trying to come off as an intrusive weirdo. He also took the chance to get as good a look at her as he could walking side by side. She was about half a head shorter than him, reaching a little over his ear. Her hair was wavy and a light brown shade, around mid-back length, and partly up in a messy half bun. Little to virtually no makeup. In terms of 'assets', seemed about average in the front, couldn't quite get a view of the back but that wasn't important right now.

Reaching the café, he ordered himself a simple BLT with a bottle of water and basically had to insist she order more when all she ordered was some fruit tea lemonade she had mentioned earlier.

"You're pushy huh," she grinned over at him.

"Hey, you won't take my money," he shrugged. Now those were two things he never thought he'd insist on with a woman, food and money. But ultimately, she threw her hands up in a small surrender and settled on a chicken bacon sandwich. Finally seated, they continued on with their conversation.

Apparently, she was relatively new in town, some weeks in and still trying to familiarize herself with the city. Something, she said, would still take her more time. Not that he blamed her, Los Santos was huge, if not one of the larger cities in the country. Some other tidbits of information were that she'd done a lot of traveling in her teen years, had done some school in San Fierro, and basically ended up in Los Santos looking for work. When he questioned why Los Santos of all places, she shrugged and replied that she knew someone that knew someone here that could get her some work. Just someone trying to get by one day at a time. As if he didn't feel that on a personal level.

"So what about you? Cruising around trying to avoid the Mrs?" she joked, motioning over to his wedding ring.

Ah. That. "We're separated, actually," he replied, looking at his ring and realizing that was the first time he said that out loud and of all people, to someone he had just met. Strange that it didn't feel strange.

Her face dropped. "Shit I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-"

"No no it's fine," he assured. "It was a long ways coming. Honestly, I don't even know why I still wear this thing." Probably just the familiarity of it.

Trying to change the subject, it was her turn to ask about him. Had he always lived in Los Santos? Opinions on the city? Any bits of useful information he could tell a newbie in town? What he did for a living, and such.

" _No way_ were you retired," she leaned back in her chair. "You're so young though."

Whether she was just being nice or genuinely meant it, he'd gladly accept the compliment from her without a beat.

She sighed, "Times are tough. You gotta do what you gotta do."

Aint that right.

"But are you happy though?"

'Was he happy?' That question caught him off guard. The only real person that would ask him such a question was his shrink and lord knows they've had their go at the subject with mixed to leaning-towards-negative results. But what was he to tell this woman who had been nothing but nice to him?

Was he happy? Of course he wasn't happy! His life was a shit show! His psychotic best friend was back in the picture, he was constantly being haunted by mistakes he'd made in the past, he'd say he was repenting but it felt as if he had yet to meet the next level of hell, his family had finally left him, and he didn't even want to get started with the shit with the FIB and whoever the fuck else had a price on his head he had yet to find out about. It was always easy to lie and say 'sure' but there was just something about hearing himself lying aloud about his own happiness that made him feel even more like crap. But he also couldn't necessarily tell her no without the possibility of follow up questions. And he knew himself, the second he got started, he'd go on and on on the hope and premise that someone would actually care and give a damn about him and his problems. That's something he did not want, he'd already been enough of a bother to this woman.

"Well actually-" he was cut off by her phone ringing. Thank god.

She apologized, embarrassed, as she quickly pulled it out of her small handbag. One look at the screen and she apologized again, she had to take it.

He shook his head, by no means did she have to apologize. Coincidentally, he too felt his pocket buzzing. Great. Checking his screen, a small relief to see a message from Franklin. Hang out later? Sounded great.

Checking the time, he couldn't believe that time had flown by. He was surprised they hadn't been kicked out. Still staring at his phone, he couldn't help but just _hear_ her. She was speaking Spanish again so he had no idea what was being said, made him feel as if he should have probably paid more attention in the good ol' high school Spanish class. Not that that would have been of much help now. He wouldn't necessarily consider himself 'cultured', but there was always something about hearing the flow of the Romance languages. Probably just a simple appreciation.

He glanced back up once he noticed her tuck her phone away. With a sigh she told him she unfortunately had somewhere to be.

"You don't have to pretend to be bummed out," he joked.

"I really am," she scoffed, "You're a real interesting guy Michael. I'd be lying if I said this lunch wasn't fun."

"Thank you," he gave a small nod. "I guess you're alright yourself."

"I'll take it," she replied with a cheeky grin.

Now standing outside the shop, it was the oh so dreaded goodbye. The afternoon had been pleasant, and he actually found her to be good company. He definitely wouldn't mind grabbing a few drinks with her.

"I really wish there was something more I could do for ya."

"Well actually…" She looked at him thoughtfully. "Ah, no. Forget it, I'm sorry."

"If I could be of any service, I'm more than happy to oblige," he assured.

"Well, could… could you give me a ride? I don't have a car, and a cab…"

"Say no more. Let's go."

He had the entire city mapped in his head. If she had somewhere to be, he could get her there in the fastest route possible. Destination? Vespucci Beach, but he could just drop her off near Del Perro Pier, is what she said. Now came the final goodbye as she thanked him one final time and told him to take care.

"'See you around', heh," he repeated alone with a small shake of his head as he pulled out of the lot. Well that was the end of that. "Miro, it was _very_ nice to meet you," he murmured to himself, now left to his thoughts. He'd admit he was still curious of her relationship to someone like Mota, the sheer chance of luck that brought her to the same block as him, and… the small cut across her cheek and the longer one across her forearm… they looked _relatively_ _fresh_ …

There were certain things about people that you notice that don't really need to be pointed out. He saw her, and she had what appeared to be a small scratch on her cheek. Alright no big deal, can happen to anyone. _Then_ , he noticed the one on her forearm while she was drinking her tea. Alright, note taken but no need to pry. But that didn't mean he wasn't thinking about it… or the fact that they didn't look like scratches. Scratches were irregular in that they were _bumpy_ , the resistance from the skin. A clean cut with no resistance could only come from something _sharp_.

"Ughhh," he loudly groaned, running a hand across his face. Why was he worrying about a woman he would never see again? More than anything, it felt as if he was just trying to immerse himself in anything other than the things plaguing his life. Speaking of, he had to give Franklin a call.

Ohhh did he ever regret that as he found himself later that day pouring down drinks at the Vanilla Unicorn's bar. At one point in time he had mentioned to Franklin that his family was, _taking a break_ so to speak. The kid was only trying to cheer him up. He was a good kid. But he wasn't interested in the ladies ever so swaying behind him as he leaned forward on the counter while Franklin leaned back, turning slightly to talk to him.

"Any word on what Trevor's up to?"

"No fuckin clue," Michael shook his head, twirling the glass with his fingers. The last thing they knew was that Trevor was planning something big and that they would 'be in touch'. When it came to someone as unpredictable as Trevor, there was no way of knowing what the fuck any of that could possibly mean.

Opting for a refill, he stared at the liquid before downing it and feeling it settle.

"Thought you weren't gon' get wasted tonight," Franklin glanced over with a smirk.

"Nope. This is nowhere near being wasted. Believe me," he straightened himself out, nearly having a heart attack at who he saw when he did so.

No. Fucking. Way.

"Hey dog, you alright?" Franklin noticed how Michael nearly shrunk towards the counter. He was about to look around when Michael stopped him.

"Yeah yeah but um, do me a favor and just don't more from where you are."

"Shit man you actin' like you just seen your wife walk in here," Franklin joked as he crossed his arms but complied.

Oh it was probably worse. With Franklin and a few others in between, there was distance between them but without a doubt it was Miro standing on the other end of the counter.

She handed the bartender what appeared to be a small slip of paper.

"Ah so it's you. Here, a drink for your troubles. Bag's in the back."

After downing her shot, Miro disappeared into the back only to shortly reappear with a duffel bag and with a wave to the bartender, leave the establishment.

To say that Michael's curiosity and senses weren't going the fuck off was a giant understatement.

"So who's the chick?" Franklin questioned.

"What?"

"The girl you was just hiding from."

"I've got no fucking clue."

Perhaps though, that could change with some help from Lester.


	3. Chapter 3

"Michael," Lester greeted as he swiveled around in his chair to see his guest. "You're looking as pleasant as ever."

"Eh," Michael waved his hand, not having the energy to fire anything back. He hadn't meant to drink as much as he had last night but things were always easier said than done. After Franklin had dropped him off for the night, he was unsurprisingly greeted with a small hangover in the morning. Despite it, there was still something very adamantly on his mind.

"So, what can I do for you?"

"I need your help looking someone up."

"What, pull another Mexican's house off a cliff?" Lester sneered, turning towards his computer. "Alright, what's the name?"

"Her name's Miro… she's Mexican and…" Michael trailed off, running his hand over his face upon realizing the problem.

"Miro? That's it?" Lester turned towards him. "You want me to look up a Mexican named Miro? Want me to look up a Maria or Jose while I'm at it? Or even a John Smith?"

"Alright, alright! I may have gotten a little ahead of myself and not thought this through."

Lester sighed. "No last name?"

Michael shook his head.

"A phone number?"

Again no.

"Anything that could be of public records? Like employment, or… even enrollment at a school perhaps?"

"Oh! Yes!" Michael clasped his hands. "School! She went to… um…" Damn it he knew this. He remembered. She had told him where she went to school. Damn it this headache wasn't making things any better. "San Fierro! One of the universities up there… It was… University of San Andreas!"

Lester turned to begin typing away when he stopped and glanced over his shoulder to look at Michael. "USSF?"

"Yeah," Michael nodded, a little proud he could recall it. "Why, what's wrong? It's an actual school isn't it? Like USLS here in Los Santos."

"Yes, you're correct, but USSF is strictly medical."

Whoa! He was _not_ aware of that. Just knew that San Fierro had some good schools around there.

"Well, let's see what I can find," Lester sighed, working with what little information he had. Admission records were easy things to get a hold of by good ol' San Andreas laws. But that didn't mean it made things easier locating someone when all you had was the name Miro to go by. When questioning Michael on what was so special about this woman, Michael simply replied they'd been running into each other and he was getting a special feeling about her. "A recruitment kind of feeling?"

"What? No. Just… something's _off_."

Lester nodded as he continued searching. Michael had a special eye for things like that, he'd leave it be for now. "Well here's the thing, there are no records of a Hispanic woman named Miro ever being enrolled in USSF. If you had a particular class year, then maybe it'd be easier to look at individual students. But as it is, the only 'Miros', or extended variations of, to have ever been enrolled there are Eastern European men that are around their 40s by now. Either she gave you a wrong school, or she's using a different name."

Michael slowly paced around the room, processing what Lester had just said. She was really nice and pleasant. It didn't feel like she had lied about the school. Well for one, who lies about which school they go to? Who even cares about that stuff? And two, she had talked about San Fierro with the smallest hints of passion. He was convinced she had at least lived up there. But if they were currently at a dead end, what more could he go by? He didn't even know how old she was and most certainly did not have a class year.

"You said something about individual students," Michael looked over at Lester.

"Yeah, if we had a class to go by… Wait, are you telling me you want to look at individual students that have attended that school in the hopes of finding your mystery girl?" Lester didn't like the look Michael gave him. "Michael!"

"What? Are you busy? Oh, I'm so sorry for keeping you from your game," Michael's words laced with sarcasm. This headache was not getting any better. He took a deep breath, "Look, Lester, this is all I'm asking of you man... for now. Please just help me out here."

Lester looked at him for a second. This had better damn well pay off in the end. "Fine." With some algorithms and data processing, he was able to create a filter so to speak based on new information Michael had given him on her appearance. When that was finished, he started going through the filtered profiles.

Michael looked at the screen intently as the images began to play. One by one he looked at each flashing image hoping the next would be Miro.

"There!" Michael snapped as Lester stopped the slideshow. "Go back go back."

Lester complied and went back until Michael told him to stop. "Her?"

"Yes! It's her!" wow his heart was beating from the excitement. Finally.

"Vianey Ruiz," Lester read the name aloud.

"Vianey," Michael repeated as he rubbed his stubble. Fuckin A. He finally had a name to go off from.

"Wow," Lester leaned back surprised in his chair after looking through her USSF and subsequent school records.

"What you got?" Michael crossed his arms, all ears.

"Well as you've seen, she indeed was a student at USSF. She was enrolled and graduated from their medical school. I found her MCAT. It's very high."

Med- "Medical school?"

Lester nodded. "Your friend here's a doctor. A very smart one. I also found her at Sonador University." He glanced over at Michael and sighed at the blank look given to him. "That's an _Ivy League_ school Michael. It's also in San Fierro. There's also a record of her from a university in Switzerland."

Michael nodded to himself, recalling her mentioning traveling and doing some studies in Europe. "Anything else you can dig up?"

Lester tacked away at his computer with a frown. "Actually, no. No phone number, not even an address. She must either be a real private person or… oh, wait a sec," he paused as he began to dig deeper with Michael close by. "I think I found something…" he muttered to himself, tacking away. "Ah! It is. There are a few international wire transfers from an account with her name on it to one in Mexico. Recipient, Scarlett Jauregui." Probing further, the transfers were encrypted. A little suspicious given that there was virtually no other information about her. It would take too much time probing further into that. Alright, perhaps the recipient might give some clues. "Oh? Your friend's been transferring money to an account belonging to a dead woman. Here's the kicker, this woman's been dead for almost twenty years. It was a kid. Want to know what else is a kicker? I can't find any more information." Lester leaned back in his chair, looking over at Michael as he processed their dead end.

Michael began pacing again, rubbing his chin in thought. Why would there be a need to transfer money into a dead person's account. But also, why would it still be open after so long? Especially if it belonged to a kid? He sighed. He'd hoped he'd find more information in coming to Lester but if anything, it left him with even more suspicions. Well, at least he got her name. Vianey Ruiz. He was satisfied with that.

He thanked Lester and apologized for the trouble before taking off.

* * *

"DIE! DIE! DIE!" Lester shouted at his screen, wrapped up in his game. Once Michael had left, the rest of the day had progressed as usual. Some games here, some stocks there. The usual.

His attention was peeled from his screen to the woman standing outside his door from the security monitor. He narrowed his eyes, she was just standing there. She looked familiar though. She looked like…

His eyes snapped open as he turned in his chair only for his breath to hitch at the woman standing behind him with a small smile gracing her lips.

"Hi," she greeted.

Lester was nothing but incoherent sounds as he tried to process what was going on. He was frozen in place, his heart was racing in his chest, his breath was hitching in his throat, and she was still on his monitor! With a blip she was gone, and he could see some stray cat walking by.

"Felix sends his regards."

Felix? Felix! So he was still alive? But then that meant… Michael!

"What…what…" he tried to speak but he couldn't get the words passed his throat.

"You probably need this huh?" she held up his inhaler.

Dear god he was going to die and it was all Michael's fault.

"Relax," she soothed, holding the inhaler up to his lips. "I'm not going to hurt you, and you have Felix to thank for that. But if you don't be a good boy and cooperate," she pulled the inhaler back. "I might end up calling my own shots. Capiche?"

Lester nodded, the slightest bit of relief as she actually held out his inhaler for him to take a puff. But that didn't mean he wasn't still terrified of the woman that basically slithered in his home undetected.

"Don't worry, I won't overstay my visit," she began tossing and catching his inhaler in her hand. "I just want to know why this address was sticking its nose in matters that didn't concern it," she slowly walked over to his frozen form and sat across on his lap with an arm around his neck and a hand patting his face. "Think you can answer that for me?"

Oh now he was starting to panic. She had no weapons that he could see but he had a feeling she could instantly snap his neck if he said the wrong thing. He had never betrayed Michael and Michael had never done anything to him but damn it it was his fault this was happening in the first place. "I-I was just doing as told."

"Oh? Do tell by whom?" she held the inhaler to his lips as his breathing began to hitch again.

Taking a puff and holding it in, he apologized profusely in his head as he breathed out and spoke the name.

"See that wasn't so hard," she patted his cheek as she stood up and tossed him his inhaler. "Take care now," she waved at him as she made her way out just as quietly as she did in.

He stayed still for who knows how many minutes, trying to wrap his mind around what had just happened and if it was really over. Collecting himself, he knew for sure that he needed to call Michael.

* * *

"Crap, all crap," Michael shook his head as he exited the movie theater. "They should be paying _me_ to sit through three hours of that." Pulling out his phone, he was surprised to see so many missed calls and voicemails from Lester. Did something happen?

"M-Michael I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I was just so scared and actually thought I was going to die."

Michael stared at his phone as the message ended.

"She was here Michael! She was here! That woman! Miro! She was here!"

What the…

"I didn't want to tell her, but I had no choice! This was all your fault!"

He began to walk towards his car while listening to the rest of the messages.

"I'm sorry Michael. I really am. I told her it was you. I don't really know what's going on, but you'd better watch out. She might come after you if she came here. She might know your location, be alert."

Now wasn't that something of interest. Getting into his car, he went to dial Lester when he felt something press up against his head. Something he was all too familiar with. Looking into the rear-view mirror…

"Well fuck," he muttered to himself, slowly putting his hands up.

"Pull out and drive as you would without drawing attention to yourself," she instructed, pressing the gun to his head.

He sighed, "Yes ma'am." He did as told and started to drive around with no particular destination in mind. He wondered if this was what Franklin felt when they first met.

"Who sent you?" she questioned, holding the gun steady.

"What?" he was actually caught off guard by the question.

"Don't fuck with me. Who sent you?" she repeated more firmly, pressing the gun even more into his head.

"I don't know what you're talking about. No one sent me," he replied, eyes on the road but every now and then on the rear-view mirror to catch glimpses of her.

"I swear to god whoever sent you better fuck off. I'm following our deal as agreed upon."

"I'm not with anyone!" he insisted. "No one sent me!"

"Then why was your nose snooping around in my business!"

"I-" he sighed, damn it what was he supposed to tell her? "Was just curious about you is all."

"Curious?" she repeated, obviously not believing him.

"Yeah, it's… I can't explain it. It's like a sense." He glanced at her unconvinced form from the mirror. "I mean c'mon, it'd be pretty unusual for me to be working for someone considering how we first met." He could feel the gun pressed not as hard anymore, but it was still there. "I _promise_ you, I'm not working for anyone out to get you."

She was quiet as she thought things through. With a sigh, she lowered and tucked the gun away before climbing into the front passenger seat. "You better not. I really didn't want to have to kill you. You seem like a really cool guy."

He let out his own sigh of relief. Glancing over, she was scrolling through her phone reclining ever so slightly. "So who do you owe money to?"

"What?" she glanced up and over at him.

"Who do you owe money to? You said deal. An arrangement. You owe money to someone and came to Los Santos looking for work. Correct me if I'm wrong."

She smirked. "My my aren't you as nosy as you are perceptive."

And just like that he was talking to the woman from before.

He shrugged, "It's as much a gift as it is a curse."

"Well that gift seems to know much about these kinds of things. Makes me wonder if you've ever been caught up in your own fare share of trouble."

"I'm… _informed_ , is all," he replied, not wanting to reveal too much info. "Especially enough to know that if you're in need of money, I know of a few ways."

"No thank you," she politely refused. "I've already got my own job."

Stopping at a light, he observed her and noticed her staring intently at her phone before looking up and ahead, almost as if she were processing something. The light turned green and his eyes were back on the road.

"Hey, if you're so informed, would you happen to know a guy named Michael Townley?"

He nearly sped into the car in front of them. He glanced over at her grinning at her phone.

"Apparently that guy _really_ knows his way around getting money."

"How did you-" he reached for her phone, but she held it away from him with one hand and pushed against his face with the other.

"Oh no wait, he died in Lu… Lu-den… Ludendorff, North Yankton. Ah shame," she sighed exaggeratedly.

Reaching for her phone again, he nearly crashed into another car as they reached another intersection.

Tucking her phone away she clasped her hands. "Well this has been fun. Nice seeing you again but I've gotta go."

And just like that she got out of the car and began to walk away towards the sidewalk. The dusk sun making her a shadow among the other citizens. He was going to go after her but realized he couldn't just leave his car at the intersection. But damn it like hell would she be getting away from him again!

Banging the steering wheel impatiently, he glanced back and forth between the sidewalk and the light. The second it turned green, he cut the cars off to his right and tailed after her. Ditching the car, he ran after her in an alley and called out Miro.

She stopped, turning around to see a gun pointed at her.

"I really don't want to do this, but I really need to know where you got that information from," he held his weapon steady.

She looked completely unfazed at the gun pointed at her. "You have your sources, I have mine."

"What are you going to do with that information?"

"Nothing. You snooped around, and I did the same," she shrugged. "This information is useless to me. I don't know or care who the fuck Michael Townley is or was. Your past is irrelevant to me. Now, are we done here? It's dark but I can see your gun is pointed at my arm."

"Not yet sweetheart."

She sighed exaggeratedly again. "Why not? We both know you're not going to shoot me or even have the intent to do so." It felt almost like a whine.

If it wasn't obvious before, he definitely wasn't dealing with an average woman.

"Here, before I forget," she pulled out the gun she had earlier and tossed it to him. "Have it. It's not mine and I don't want it. It belonged to the dead gangbanger I left in the trunk of your car earlier."

Wait what?

"Ciao love," she waved at him. "I really need to skidaddle on out of here. I'm late for work."

She turned around and started to walk away but he called her name. "Vianey!" Oh that definitely made her stop.

With narrowed eyes she slowly turned back around to find the gun now pointed at her head. "Oho so now we're serious?" she leisurely began to approach. "You can't do anything to me without an intent to kill. You still don't even look so sure aiming at my head."

He twitched his neck. "What do you know about an intent to kill?"

Next thing he knew, he felt the world spin and found himself on the ground with her sitting on his chest, a foot on his wrist and a _very_ large knife poking his neck.

"A thing or two."

The next time he saw himself with a woman on top of him, he didn't imagine it would involve him nearly being decapitated by her. He wasn't sure if he should feel startled or aroused. Maybe a bit of both.

"Alright, alright," he let go of the gun to reduce the strain on his wrist and put his other hand out and open in surrender. "I think I get it now."

But she wasn't budging. They stayed like that, at a standstill, until her phone began to ring. Groaning, she pulled the knife back and answered the call, all the while still sitting on his chest. The call didn't last long. Once it ended she got up from atop of him.

"Oh look what you did now. I told you I was late. My boss is pissed," she helped him up.

"I would offer my services but if I'm not mistaken, there's a corpse in my trunk?"

"What? Ohhh no no noooo," she patted his shoulder, "Just make sure to never drive that car again, and in the event that you do, ignore the smell that'll come up in a few days."

"Miro."

"Ok honestly, I didn't think this far ahead. There was originally supposed to be _two_ corpses in that car," she gave him a look, "and well, you know," she shrugged.

He sighed, a hand on his hip and the other rubbing the spot on this throat where the knife had been poking him. There were so many things going on at once he needed to sort everything out. One, he had to dispose of the car. Two, he needed to make sure Miro didn't leave his sight- wait where was she?

"Miro!" he called out to her form across the alley. Jesus this woman made no sound when she moved. He caught up to her in time as she was getting into a cab, having squeezed in after her.

"Get out."

"Nope," he shook his head, pulling out whatever money he had in his pocket and tossing it to the driver, ordering him to just start driving with as little stops as possible. No stops meant she couldn't jump out of the car. "I'm in need of a ride just as much as you."

"Get another cab."

"I don't see why we can't share."

"I'm late for work."

"I can drop you off." He could do this the whole night. She was probably regretting not clipping him based on the look she threw his way.

"Fine," she glared at him. "Take me to Del Perro Pier."

"That doesn't sound like work," he pried.

"No but it sounds like food and I'm hungry. I'm late anyways. Might as well," she crossed her arms, slouching into the seat.

Where did she work anyways?

Satisfied to an extent, he set their destination. Del Perro Pier it is.


	4. Chapter 4

**A quick look through the eyes of someone else!**

* * *

A few weeks earlier…

"James De Santa," Miro read the name off the screen. "That's the job you told me about yesterday, right?"

Felix nodded, as he straightened out in his chair.

"And the pay?"

He pulled up the details of the job, earning a laugh from Miro.

"No wonder no one's accepted it. For that little money, it's not worth anyone's time dealing with losers' online drama."

"The client did provide some _incentive_ on why it'd be a job worth taking," Felix glanced at her before pulling up some in-game voice logs of their potential target.

Miro crossed her arms over her chest, listening in to the rather colorful language she was hearing. "And what did _you_ find? Is this legit or am I about to kill some kid over an online spat?"

"Ohhh nooo this is very legit. I could send you hard drives of this kid running his mouth and being a piece of shit. He's some rich kid living off daddy's money in Rockford Hills that probably feels like he can do whatever he wants because the world owes him a living."

"Ahh, so it's one of _those_ guys," Miro rocked on her heels. "Alright. Tell your boy I'll do my community service. Send me the details, I'll have it done by the end of the day."

After taking her leave and sorting through the rest of the day, she was packing up for the gym when she got the final details from Felix about her target. Ahh nothing like a pre-workout rush to get the blood flowing. Making her way, she got a cab to drop her off a ways from the house, opting to walk the rest of the way. As she strolled along, she looked over the details one last time. According to Felix, their target's I.P address had been online all day which meant the home address was the way to go. Only problem was that others lived in that residence. She had the option of luring him out or sneaking in, nothing she hadn't done before plus it was quicker. She would need to take extra precaution as to not alert the others in the residence though, especially if she didn't want to have more casualties than intended.

Quick job, quick money. Now onto getting on the property. Rockford Hills, even she knew with her limited knowledge that those were some pretty fancy houses. Felix told her the house bordered some very busy streets, so it'd be hard to hop a gate or suddenly disappear behind bushes to then hop a fence without looking suspicious in daylight but that there was a more vulnerable area on the southeast side by the tennis court. Awesome. With that fresh in her mind, she was all ready to get this done and be on her merry way to the gym… that is, until she passed by a taqueria that had a sign out advertising its horchata.

The temptation hit her hard. Oh how she could just savor it… along with the concha being advertised alongside it….. Fuck it, pre-workout carbs. The dude wasn't going anywhere.

Half an hour later…

"The fuck is this shit," Miro stood in the middle of the empty residence after sneaking her way in. She had entered through an open bathroom window and immediately noticed how quiet everything was. Slowly proceeding, she easily found her target's bedroom only to find it empty. Slowly sneaking around, she found the whole place to be empty. Great. Now she was left with two options, wait it out, or come back later. Well wait, it wasn't like this person was worth a lot of money _and_ her time for her to wait it out and play predator. She'd come back some other day. Now that she knew that the bedroom was right next to her escape route, it would be an easy in and out.

With that over with and her back on the street, she started making her way to the gym when she got a call from Felix.

"It's off!"

"What?"

"The hit! It's off!"

"What?"

"Where are you?!"

"Going to the gym," she replied slowly, weary of his urgency.

"Did you kill the De Santa boy?!"

"What?"

"The client called the hit off! He had some second thoughts and apparently was afraid of whatever consequences there might be, so he called it off."

"Psh, I'm a professional. There would be no consequences. But no, I went to the place and it was empty. Guess everyone's time was wasted today."

Stuffing her phone into her bag, she reached a crosswalk and nearly did a double take at what she saw. It was a man in his underwear stumbling around looking a little disoriented while yelling out some stuff she couldn't make out. This city never ceased to amaze her. Everyone was just ignoring this man, minding their own business. He was probably homeless. Why else would people just ignore? But… homeless people didn't really look like that. That guy looked, _clean_.

Shaking her head, it wasn't her business either. But she couldn't help but glance over, curious as to what led for this guy to end up like that. But still, nope. She kept glancing over and noticed a cop approaching. Nope, still not her business… But what if this was a misunderstanding or the guy was a victim of something. The cop had no way of knowing that. He just needed any reason to throw a transient in jail. Ohh she'd feel hella bad if this dude was some good dude and she let this cop take him away. Ughhh.

She ran over, calling after the officer to get his attention. She explained that she knew the man and when questioned why he was near naked wandering around, the first thing that popped into her mind was to say that he was on some very strong medication.

"Have you ever seen those wisdom teeth videos where they're all messed up when they wake up? Yeah, it's kinda like that. Can't take your eyes off them for a second otherwise they wander disoriented into town," she laughed slowly, hoping he bought it. Much to her relief he did. He let her off with a warning for the public indecency, whatever the fuck that meant, the man wasn't naked. But whatever, the cop was gone and now here she was with this man that now upon closer inspection was definitely on some trip.

She tried talking to him and offered him a bottle of water, but it was as if she wasn't even there. He just kept stumbling around, cursing some dude named Jimmy while she followed right on his heel. It wasn't until he stopped and lied down and just stared up at the sky that she had a feeling he'd be coming to soon. She was sitting next to him, scrolling through her phone when she started to hear him groan. This was it. She just knew it. Preparing for it, she called a cab for the man just to be safe.

When he slowly started to get up, she bolted upright to help him if needed. Good thing too because he puked and started to look around, appearing dazed but more conscious than before.

"Oh hey, are you alright?"

There was a small internal sigh of relief when he spoke for the first time. He asked where he was and she answered. She also remembered she still had the water bottle in her hand, so she offered it to him which he gladly took. She explained their little situation to which he thanked her. She actually felt good. He was just someone having a bad day… which reminded her of the suero she had in her bag. She had it for post workout but gladly offered it to him. He would need it more. That shit would work wonders especially after whatever trip he was on.

After some more light back and forth, the cab finally arrived, getting their attention. She paid the driver while the man got in. After their final goodbyes, the cab took off, bringing that to an end.

"You did good Vianey, you did good," she sighed to herself, looking at the time and noting that it was a little too late to get a workout before work. No biggie at least the time hadn't been a complete waste.

* * *

A few weeks later…

Miro lip synced to the song playing on the small portable speaker as she leaned back in the chair, feet propped up on the white foldable table. She was with the rest of the crew at the food truck under the usual overpass, getting ready to prepare for the day. She nearly fell back when the big man himself, Don Juan, shouted her name coming around the truck.

" _Go to Felix now, we just received an open hit on him_ ," he explained. " _Hector, go too_ ," he commanded to one of the men listening in from the truck's open window.

She immediately stood up. An open hit, huh? Guess they weren't the only ones offered the job. First come first serve for the prize.

She and Hector immediately took off with Hector behind the wheel. She tried calling Felix, but he wasn't answering. She wanted to think that it was too soon for anything to have happened, but there was no way of being sure with all the other groups basically making up 'Murder Inc' of the area.

"Felix must have really pissed someone off if the call basically went to everyone in the underground," Hector commented.

Miro nodded, pinching the bridge of her nose. "And it's not like we can just let him die, no matter how much of a pain his stupid antics can be for us."

Arriving at the building, Hector tossed Miro an earpiece as he pulled up around the back. Felix hadn't answered any of the calls so entering up through the fire escape was the best option. Miro went on up while Hector circled around the block looking for anyone suspicious.

Miro basically leapt her way up the railing until she reached Felix's open window. She slid in just in time to see Felix trying to fight off a woman on top of him, strangling him with a rag in one hand and trying to stab him with her knife in the other. Miro's presence was instantly known as the woman flung the knife at Miro's head. She barely managed to move aside but had no time to breathe as the woman was lunging at her with another blade. Miro could hear Felix coughing, trying to catch his breath as she evaded this woman's attack. This bitch was fast, Miro would give her that. But unfortunately, too open and sloppy. She had to control the woman's hand in order to gain control of the altercation. After the next predicted lunge, Miro used her knuckles to strike down on the back of the woman's hand just as she was retracting her blade, causing it to fall out of her hand. But the attacker caught it in the other and went to lunge at Miro, but Miro was able to cross block it and roll the woman's arm into a joint lock, pressing down on the middle finger bone. The woman flung her knife once again into her other hand just as Miro snapped her wrist. She lunged up from her lower angle but with a stomp to the quad of her leading leg, Miro caught her forearm and with another joint lock, broke her other wrist, disarming her and sending the blade into the woman's left upper quadrant where some of the big abdominal arteries resided.

"Finally," Miro let out a big sigh of relief, ignoring the cries of pain at her feet. "Felix, vamos," she motioned him along to the window. "Hector get your ass around here. Felix, gogogogogo."

"But what about-?"

"She's got two broken wrists and is bleeding out from major arteries in her abdomen. She'll be dead by the time someone in this building is finally brave enough to bust in and investigate the noises," she quickly collected the knives before exiting out the window with Felix close behind. They swiftly and quietly made their way down as Hector pulled up and took them away. They stopped at a nearby overpass near a homeless encampment to catch a breather and a quick check up on Felix.

Miro stretched and popped her back upon stepping out of the car. "I liked it better when I didn't have any friends. Didn't have to make my way across town to save their asses from other assassins."

"Yeah yeah," Felix waved dismissively as he opened the door and sat sideways out of the car.

"But hey," she stood in front of him, "You good?"

Felix looked up at her, nodding.

"Are _you_ good?" Hector came from around the car. Upon Miro's confused expression, he pointed at his cheek.

Miro touched her cheek, mirroring Hector. There was blood on her fingers. The fuck? When did this happen? Wait- Did she actually get cut? That raggedy bitch! She looked at herself through the car window's reflection, trying to find any more cuts if the blood was just now seeping out. Luckily, she only found another on her forearm. Thank god. Wetting some tissues, she wiped off the blood and recollected herself while Hector and Felix settled back in the car. She told them to go on ahead because she wanted to check something out before they regrouped. She had to make sure a body was carted off before she could be fully satisfied.

Collecting her bag from the car, they went their separate ways with some deuces. She figured she'd walk around, hoping to hear sirens eventually and sure enough. Heading back to the scene, there was emergency personnel along with the usual nosy crowd across the street that flocked to flashing lights. She settled in amongst others on the sidewalk, trying to hear if they had anything interesting to say. When paramedics emerged with a covered body on a stretcher, the crowd then started to chatter. Satisfied, she rang Hector to let him know she was on her way back.

Weaving through the crowd, she nearly ran into a guy that suddenly stepped in front of her. He was about to snap at her, but the words caught in this throat as they stared at each other. This guy… looked familiar… _really_ familiar… wait… no way… Her face lit up upon recognizing him.

"Hey, you're that guy! Hi!" she smiled up at him. He introduced himself and she did the same as they shook hands.

Wow, just wow. She never thought she would ever see him again after that day. But man was she ever glad she had stayed. He looked great, _very_ handsome, fancy suit and all. She wasn't saying he was ugly before, but it wasn't like she was checking him out when he was half naked on a trip cussing out some dude that was probably responsible for the state he had been in. She had just been making sure he was ok, and he was. And now they were here, with him talking to her and her spacing the fuck out. Shit!

"I'm sorry, it's just… wow, you look great! _Way_ better than that other day," she smiled up at him.

He held his arms out and let them fall to his sides, thanking her for the compliment. How cute, he was bashful. But in all seriousness, she was glad he was alright. When he literally tried to pay her back, she immediately refused despite his persistence. She helped him because she wanted to, and any form of payment would make her feel as if she had only done it for the reward. After another back and forth between them, he finally pocketed the money but still seemed insistent on making it up to her, so he offered her lunch. It wasn't necessary by any means but perhaps if she took him up on this significantly smaller offer, that would sate him. That _and_ she was starting to get hungry. Working racked up an appetite.

As they started to make their way to the café, they casually walked passed the people lining the sidewalk as if she wasn't the one responsible for the scene across the street. With some light conversations here and there about this and that, the lunch was very enjoyable. When he revealed he was retired, she called bullshit. _No way_ this dude was retired. Yeah, he seemed old _er_ than her, but that wasn't to say he looked _old_. Especially enough to be retired.

After some more light conversation, her phone rang. Fuck. One look at the screen… fuck. She had to take it. It was Don Juan. At first, she thought she was going to get chewed out for having run off. But instead, he told her she had _consultations_ to attend to.

Oh. Well that was alright. But ugh, that meant she had to bring an end to her lunch with Michael.

"You don't have to pretend to be bummed out," he joked.

She scoffed at his jest. She had actually enjoyed herself and he was really good company. When they reached the oh so dreaded goodbye, he offered his services to her to still try to make it up to her. She was going to joke about him giving her a ride but refrained… but then again…

"Say no more. Let's go," he led her to his car and took her to where she needed to go without question.

Arriving, she thanked him one final time and told him to take care. The rest of her day progressed as it normally would have, some meetings here and there, 'business' discussions with Don Juan, helping prepare the truck for the night of business next to the pier, and looking over 'special orders'. Of the orders that had arrived, one had interestingly enough come from the boobie bar in town and another from some very 'barrio' parts.

It would turn out that the cholos needed someone gone and they were willing to pay _a lot_ of money for it to be done. The boobie bar was more a case of a passive stalker turning aggressive and beginning to affect business because the star was growing concerned over her safety. No worries there, Miro was all over it. But no one failed to specify that she would have to dress the part.

"So you had to dress like a stripper?" Felix laughed as he lied on the couch of her loft, having settled into his temporary residence after the events of earlier that day. The place was very spacious and open plus he had company in Miro's dog, a Golden Shepherd named Daisy.

"No, I had to dress like a hooker," she plopped down on the adjacent couch as Daisy hopped up and settled in next to her. "I talked to the chick and she said this guy had a thing for 'special girls' and ran a route to pick them up. She told me that if I dressed similarly to her, I could probably get his attention and deal with him then. Obviously, I don't have clothes like _that_ , so she told me there'd be a bag of clothes for me at the strip joint."

"And what about the cholo?"

She groaned. "He wasn't there. I'll try again tomorrow before we full on hunt him down."

Felix nodded before turning his attention back to the laptop on his chest.

"Have you found out who ordered for you to get clipped?" she asked, getting up to get ready to crash for the night.

"Not yet, but I think I have an idea. I'll keep you posted," he waved as she walked off.

She lazily waved back, reminding him the couch pulled out and to not be lazy as to not want to put in the effort to actually pull it out. But ultimately, she could give less of a damn. She was tired as fuck and her bed was calling her name.

The next morning could not fuck off for just a few more hours. She felt well-rested, but also like she could have done better with just a few more hours of sleep. That was the laziness talking and unfortunately for that, Miro's baby wanted her breakfast.

"Ok ok, vamos Daisy," she slowly got up and trekked down the stairs, greeting Felix along the way. After going through the morning routine, she sat lazily at the table watching some noon TV report by Weasel News.

"Hey Vianey," Felix spoke up from the couch.

She lazily glanced over at him.

"You remember when we first met and started working together and eventually got well acquainted that we made some agreements amongst ourselves?" To her nod he continued. "Well I think you'd like to know someone was snooping around your stuff."

Eyes narrowed, she was listening intently. "What kind of stuff?"

"San Fierro and Scarlett Jauregui kind of stuff."

She immediately went over to him. She didn't need to say anything. He already knew.

"It wasn't that long ago. First it was your school records at San Fierro. Initially, I thought it was just a random scroll through files in which yours passed by. But when the bank stuff got probed into as well, that's when this felt as if someone was looking for you. To add, the probing address came from here in Los Santos, Murrieta Heights. It's relatively close actually."

"Who."

"The same guy who put the hit on me."

Ahhh, now this was getting interesting. So all she had to do was go and take out this guy-

"No no, don't kill him. Just like, give him a scare."

"But this dude wanted you dead. Also, if he's probing into my shit then surely he must be with _them_. I can't have them on my ass _already_."

"I doubt it," Felix waved dismissively, "But if he is, then he's not the person you'd be after."

After some rational train of thought and a plan later, she found herself in Murrieta Heights. She had to wait for Felix to give her the open window for entering the residence undetected. Not even twenty minutes later…

"Felix, what's the last known location of one Michael De Santa?" she got in the car and began driving off into the city, eventually being directed to a movie theater. Comparing showtimes and how long Mr. De Santa had been in the theater, Felix gave her an estimate on when he would come out. It could be a while. Taking the chance to stroll around, she came across a familiar looking red car. It reminded her of the one she rode in yesterday… Michael's car… Michael… Michael De Santa…. Noooo.

Coincidence. Surely. Michael was a common name.

"Felix, could you ummm, could you by any chance happen to have a picture of my dude?"

Leaning against the car, she waited a few minutes until Felix sent her the picture. Fuuuuuuuuuuck. Of course something like this would happen to her. Is this what she got for finding an older man attractive? The higher powers could go fuck themselves.

She wasn't sure what to do. For certain she couldn't just leave it be. If he _was_ associated with _them,_ then it would only be a matter of time before more started showing up and potentially coming after her. Fuuuuck! She needed to think this through. She needed a blank space… Fernando Cruz, her target from the night before was a start. That would definitely clear her mind.

Taking Michael's car for herself, she went in search of her target, made surprisingly easy work of him, and returned just in time to wait it out behind the driver's seat. The door opened and with a soft groan Michael got in, phone in hand. That's when she made her presence known by pressing Cruz's gun into the back of Michael's head. She ordered him to begin driving then questioned him once they had started moving along. He seemed oblivious to her questions, denying association with anyone. When she kept questioning, he admitted to having been curious is all.

Curious? Sure Jan. She wasn't buying it. But then he mentioned their first meeting, _insisting_ he wasn't with anyone out to get her. Fuuuuuck. She wanted to believe him. She really did. But this wasn't something she could just so easily tuck under the rug. Ultimately, she decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and tucked the gun away. If this did come back to bite her in the ass, she could easily find out where he lived.

She climbed into the passenger seat, expressing her relief at not having to kill him. Getting comfortable, she slid down on the seat and reclined slightly as she looked over the info Felix had sent her earlier.

"So who do you owe money to?"

Wut. She glanced over at him and he repeated himself with more of an analysis on her situation. This fool…

She couldn't help the smirk. "My my aren't you as nosy as you are perceptive."

He knew a little too much about these kinds of things. Now she was certain he wasn't the standard law-abiding citizen. When he offered her a way to make money, she turned him down. She already had her job… and looking at his info, she now knew his. She also now knew something else that just crossed her mind. That one kid she was supposed to kill a few weeks ago… ha, holy shit.

"Hey, if you're so informed, would you happen to know a guy named Michael Townley?" the grin spread across her face at his reaction. "Apparently that guy _really_ knows his way around getting money." It just kept getting better. He reached for her phone, but she held it away from him and pushed against his face with her free hand. When she mentioned Luden- however the fuck you say it, he reacted once again. When they stopped at an intersection, she tucked her phone away, bid him farewell, and got out of the car.

Back on the sidewalk, she recognized the street. She was getting hungry and if memory served her correct, the alleys could take her straight to a hot dog stand that should have been setting up by this time. She could make it there then back to the food truck before Don Juan got on her ass.

"Miro!"

Son of a bitch. She turned around to find a gun pointed at her. Bruh.

He was touchy that she knew that info about him but in all honesty, it all meant shit to her. She could care less. They each played their own separate games for any information on the other to even be useful. Yet the gun was still pointed at her. The way it was pointed… definitely arm. She sighed exaggeratedly, nearly whining. He wasn't going to shoot her. He didn't even look like he had the slightest intent to shoot her. And this definitely wasn't the first time she'd had a gun pointed at her.

Ah speaking of gun! She remembered Cruz's gun and tossed it to Michael. Something to add to the certain collection. When she mentioned Cruz in the trunk of his car, he appeared caught off guard. Well whatever, she had to get going.

"Ciao love," she waved at him. "I really need to skidaddle on out of here. I'm late for work." She turned around and started to walk away but she heard him call out Vianey, ooooooooo she stopped dead in her tracks. So it really _was_ him!

With narrowed eyes she slowly turned back around only to find the gun now pointed at her head. She stifled a laugh. So _now_ he was serious? Bitch please. She began to slowly approach him. His body was steady as a rock. But she knew he wouldn't do anything to her. She had been in more precarious situations. He would need an intent to _kill_ if he wanted to do anything to her. Yet here he stood, firm yet unsure.

When he called her out on her words, she took him down, brandishing her personal weapon at his neck while sitting on his chest and digging her foot into his wrist. He let go of the gun to ease the strain on his wrist and basically submitted. But she wasn't budging. She could just kill him right now. Just the slightest bit of force for, oops, decapitation. It wasn't until her phone rang that the moment was gone.

With a groan she answered and sure enough, had to get going. She got off of him and helped him up yet for some ungodly reason, he was _still_ offering his services to her. Christ.

When he brought up Cruz in the trunk, she had already forgotten about that. She came into town prepared to dispose of two bodies, but one of them was standing right next to her and well, yeah. He sighed, looking as if trying to collect himself amongst everything going on. She didn't even say anything, just started walking away. Reaching the end of the alley, she lucked out having immediately hailed a cab.

"Miro!"

Fuck.

She didn't even bother turning around. She got in and was surprised to see him squeeze in right after her. Dude was surprisingly fast. She told him to get out, but he refused, tossing money to the driver and ordering him to make as little stops as possible. Aha, smart. She wasn't going to be able to get away from him like this. And she didn't have the money to gain leverage with the driver. She had a feeling she wouldn't be getting rid of Michael anytime soon. If she gave him a random location, he would probably still follow as he had already. That would be a waste of time that could have gone into collecting her payments.

"Take me to Del Perro Pier," she gave in, slumping into the seat. Ugh, whatever. She'd figure something out.


	5. Chapter 5

Michael sighed, resting his head on the steering wheel of the newly acquired sedan. He just got off the phone with Franklin over a little favor in disposing of his rental and was currently waiting for Miro while parked out on the curb.

He had accompanied her to the pier, or better put, an empty parking lot next to the pier where a taco truck dining establishment was set up along Del Perro Beach. He wasn't sure if that place was a common staple in the area but by the amount of people present, he was guessing the place wasn't new. He could smell the food before he could hear the music playing on loud overhead speakers and simply followed as she hummed and bobbed along. Somehow in between ordering her food, making light conversation with the man at the register – none of which he could understand, chatting up some people that seemed to know her despite her insistence to the contrary – also, none of which he could understand, and picking up her food to go, she was in possession of car keys that she didn't have before, or at least he was sure she didn't have before.

"Here," she had tossed them to him. "Drive me around and I'll answer your questions. That's why you're following me, huh."

"Where did you get these keys?"

"I'll tell you if you drive me around… or should I just call your cab and be on my way?"

And simply leave things be? Fuck. That.

So then off they had gone with him her knowledgeable chauffeur for whatever the fuck she was up to that night and her answering his questions in between the bites of her torta. One: who the fuck was she?

"You already know, my name is Vianey... real name."

"No but _who_ the _fuck_ are you?"

She had grinned, "That's subjective. You're probably thinking I'm just a stranger and the guy I left in your car probably thought I was some hoochie wandering the street."

Speaking of, who the fuck was in his rental's trunk?

"Umm," she shifted, rummaging for something in her back pocket. They were small slips of paper. Reminded him of receipts. Also reminded him of the slip of paper she had shown to the bartender at the Unicorn. She sorted through them until she found the one she wanted. "Fernando Cruz. Not a swell dude. You can only imagine what kind of guy he was if his own homies wanted him gone. And these are gangbangers we're talking about."

And the cut on her cheek and arm?

She had groaned loudly, pulling down the sun visor to look at her cheek in the mirror. "Was it _that_ noticeable?"

"No no," he had shaken his head, eyes momentarily glancing at her. "I just pick up on certain things."

She'd nodded, attesting to that.

Shortly after, she told him to pull up on the curb and wait for her which led him to be where he was now, processing the events of the day in a stranger's, or rather an acquaintance of hers, car while waiting for a woman he was now sure was an assassin. Noticing a shadow from the sideview mirror, he could see her sauntering over with a duffle bag swinging back and forth. He was positive that bag was full of cash by how content she looked strolling over to the car.

Miro hummed happily to herself, swinging the bag as she made her way to the car. Client had given her her rightful payment for Fernando Cruz and had offered down payment on a string of potential jobs. It was basically his dirty work in a bid to rise in the ranks, but the fat stacks offered were enough to make her care less.

"You know you never really answered my question from earlier," he glanced at her as they drove off to their next destination.

"Hm? Which one?"

"Who do you owe money to?"

"Ah that one. It's nothing to worry about."

"I'm not worried, just curious. Especially when your assumptions nearly resulted in my _decapitation_ ," he put an emphasis on the fact she nearly killed him, hell, probably would have.

"Your near decapitation wouldn't have happened if your nose wasn't snooping around my files," she shrugged nonchalantly.

"About that, that's quite an impressive education section you've got to your resume," he commended, actually very impressed. "Among other things of course." He caught her smirk as she looked out the window. "Would have never guessed you were a doctor."

"I'm not," she replied dryly.

"Bullshit. No one breezes through prestige universities _and_ medical school just to come out and say, 'I'm not a doctor'."

"Hey, guess what," she looked over at him, "I'm not a doctor."

"Your San Fierro and Sonador records tell me otherwise. So, what? Cardiologist? Neurologist?"

"You're not going to let this go, are you? It's nothing you need to know."

"Considering my current history with you, I think I'm well owed some information. And hey, who knows, I might even share some about myself."

"Townley."

"Ruiz."

"Aha," she cast him a sly look, wiggling her finger at him. "Alright alright," she shifted in her seat, sitting up straight. "As you already know, my name is Vianey Ruiz, but you can call me Miro. Very nice to meet you," she held her hand out to him.

Glancing from the road and to her hand, Michael shook it, pleased she was finally cooperating. It felt like yesterday all over again but with the slightest twist. "Likewise. You can call me Michael _De Santa_."

She smirked at the emphasis but nodded nonetheless. "I am originally from Mexico but after a lot of moving around, currently reside here in Los Santos. _Yes_ , I am a doctor. And yes, I am an assassin. Oh the irony, I know. I'm smart. I'm fucking smart. Fuck modesty. Yeah, I blew through those schools without a sweat but I'm also the dumbest fucking person you'll ever meet. I could be living it up comfortably up in San Fierro, _actually_ making use of my license, but no. No matter how much I try, I keep falling back into a life I've had since I was a kid. You asked me who I owe money to, right? I owe ten million dollars to a cartel down in Mexico because I got drunk and thought I could capitalize on an opportunity that ended up biting me in the ass."

"Fucking Christ! Ten?!"

"Well it _used_ to be ten. It's like seven and a half now. I've been paying it off but yeah."

"What happened there?"

She sighed, recalling the event. There was a big soccer match that was surrounded in controversy. Underground word was that the big fav's team was rigged to win. She was so drunk and cocky she basically told the big boys _she'd give them_ ten million if their team _lost_ , expecting to cash in once they had actually in fact won. Well the game ended and much to her horror the team lost. So there she was with a cartel boss pissed off that his favorite team lost but also because this drunk bitch obviously didn't have the money she so cockily bet. The only thing that probably saved her ass at that time was that she had a track record with them. She had done some work for them, jobs here and there, and thus built up a reputation of staying true to her word. After some arrangements, a deal was made, and so she went off slowly but surely paying them back in accordance.

"But recently they've been getting hasty, demanding more even though we set a deal. They're probably building up to start a war or something. I don't care. But I didn't run away. I came all the way over here for work to pay them off but the last thing I need is them looking for me."

"And some fat old man looking through your records probably didn't help the overall situation, huh."

"Noo you're not old, don't say that," she scolded. "You look great. You're not fat either, just strong," she lightly pinched at his visible triceps lateral head, smiling to herself before facing forward again.

Nearing their destination, once again he parked on the curb and killed the engine, turning off all the lights.

"Why Los Santos?"

"Death is a _very_ profitable business Michael," she kept her eyes forwards, looking for movement in the street. "There's always someone who wants someone else dead. People like me can make that happen for the right price. This city is just so messed up it's great. LSPD, FIB, and IAA are too busy being useless that they're not going to care if someone from their wanted list shows up face down in the middle of the desert. LSPD do who fuckin' knows what. And everyone knows the majority of the FIB and IAA are too busy fighting, trying to convince daddy for money that they could care less about anything else. That's just what happens when you've got so many government agencies in one place with as little organization possible. It's the perfect playground for us."

"This life, it can't possibly be one that you want," he looked at her, seeing her eyes lower with a sigh.

"I kill people. And I'm good at it. But that doesn't mean it's something I derive my pleasure from or want to do for the rest of my life. Have you ever…" she trailed off, trying to find the right wording. "Have you ever done something that you're good at? Like _really good_ at? But just because you're really good at it doesn't necessarily mean it's your most favorite thing in the world to do. And yet when you do it, you just can't help but feel.."

The rush.

"..the rush, the excitement, the _satisfaction_ because that's your skill and no one else's."

Oh little did she fuckin know.

"But also, it can be a shitty feeling. Because you feel like you can be doing more, something more _productive_. But no matter how hard you try to _be good_ , you're constantly held to that one thing while also simultaneously held to _other things_ set by other people that just don't understand your situation at all."

Fuckin. A.

"I'm sorry I'm just projecting now," she reclined her seat, having a feeling she'd be waiting a while anyways so why not get comfy.

"No no," he assured with a small shake of his head, "I actually understand what you mean." It was a feeling. A strange feeling. Joy? Relief? Security? Before he could even stop himself, he opened his mouth. Miro's small nods and body slightly turned in his direction indicative of her attentiveness to every word that was being said.

"Wait wait, on the same day your kid loses your yacht, _right after that_ , you come home to your wife in bed with her tennis coach? And then _after that_ you pulled down a house you thought was his from a cliff?" She couldn't help the airy laugh that escaped her lips. "Michael De Santa, aren't your days just so eventful."

He chuckled, probably for the first time seeing the humor in just how fucked up and spiraled out of control his life had gotten within a short period of time. "Eventful enough to have introduced me to you though." There was that smile again.

"Well aren't I glad I almost killed you."

 _He_ most certainly was. Continuing on, he told her about the heist at Vangelico, his old running buddy back in the picture, and his current regrettable affiliation with the FIB.

"Ah no way! Vangelico was you? Very nice if I do say so myself. _And_ in broad daylight," she gave him a tiny round of applause.

"Thank you," he responded with a small nod. It felt good to be commended on his set of skills for once instead of Michael do this, Michael do that, Michael the cartel leader isn't going to pay himself. Ah fuck off.

"I guess I understand now what you meant by retired. I'd be a little terrified too if someone I split ways with nearly a decade ago in a totally different state suddenly showed up at my door."

Ah, Trevor. He didn't exactly tell her what happened back in Ludendorff to the most precise of detail. He simply told her he split ways with an old running buddy in the pursuit of separate interests.

"So is that why you're still here with me? To avoid having to meet up with your ol' pals?" she grinned.

He nodded. That was exactly right… among other reasons of course. "I also enjoy your company. It's not everyday you meet someone you can so easily talk to about your life of crime." It also wasn't everyday he met someone that would listen as freely as she did. It didn't feel as if she were judging him and it didn't feel as if she was simply waiting for him to finish speaking. She was listening to him.

"Aw thanks," she smiled. "I enjoy your company as well. Also kinda glad you stuck around. Probably would have taken me forever to find this ugly ass street at night."

He shrugged, "You become familiar of the areas when you live here for almost ten years."

"When I'm not working, how about you show me around so I can familiarize myself with this big ass city. Might even let you buy me dinner," she joked, but without a moment's hesitation..

"Sounds great," he nodded.

"Wait- what. No. Michael no, I was kidding."

"I was not."

Before she could say anything, they heard laughter coming from down the street followed by some shadows. They both immediately ducked.

"These your guys?" he questioned in a low voice, nearly sending chills down her spine by how close he had gotten when they slumped down.

"One of them should be… from what you can see, anybody got a big ass watch that look like it'd be worth more than this neighborhood?"

Light was dim, even under the street light, but a giant wrist accessory was still something that stood out and currently he saw none. "No," he replied slowly.

"Fuck, me either." Their guy wasn't here. It was Fernando fucking Cruz all over again. Sighing, she told him they'd head out to the next place once these guys cleared the block.

"So this gig, how's it work exactly?" Michael questioned as he straightened up in his seat.

"Need a job done? Take it to posts around the city and find anyone willing to take it. Or do what your friend did and just hand out an open call to everyone. _Or_ , if you've got a specific person in mind, take it to their post or get in touch with their people."

"That taco truck wouldn't happen to be a 'post' now would it?"

Her mouth said no but her head said yes. He knew it! With that confirmed, he took it that that was _her_ post and that she indeed _did_ know those people.

"Need someone taken care of?" she gave him the slightest of grins.

"Sweetheart I'd give you a whole fuckin' list if I could. But unfortunately for me, all the attention would come my way if certain individuals suddenly went missing."

"Shame," she feigned disappointment. "The offer still stands."

She motioned for them to get going but as he was turning on the car, there was a knock at her window. She tried to look at the side view mirror but man, tinted windows weren't the best thing at night. Despite that, she could definitely see _something_.

"Fuck," she exhaled, hanging her head before raising it back up and pressing the button to lower the window. "Hi," she slowly greeted the gun to her head. It was the guys from before.

Michael's instinct was to immediately go for his own weapon but refrained as another gun was pointed at him from the same window.

"Don't even fucking try it. Kill the engine and step out of the car."

"Alright, alright," he did as told as one of them took the keys.

"Why does he get to step out of the fucking car but I'm dragged out?" Miro argued from her new place pressed up against the cool metal of the car.

"Because our problem is with you not some _guero quien se cree_ (white dude)," the guy spat.

Michael surveyed the scene. They were surrounded by five men. Two were with him and three were with Miro. From what he could see, only three had visible handguns out; a guy on his side and two on hers.

"What's in the bag?" the guy motioned towards the open passenger door.

"The trash from my torta."

Not the response they wanted as her head was pressed harder into the metal.

"Hey!" Michael immediately roused but now had two guns pointed at him.

"The duffel _pendeja_ (dumbass)! Who sent you? Was it Eddie? Or Sergio?"

It was actually Juan but jesus christ what was she doing getting involved in these matters if this gang was well on its way to crumble on its own if the members were putting this many hits on each other.

"It doesn't matter, you can talk to Ramon yourself." With one guy on each arm, they literally carried her away a few houses over across the street, leaving Michael alone with his two guests.

"Don't worry, we'll give you the pleasure of disposing of her corpse for us," the one who held him at gunpoint laughed.

They stood in silence, Michael not wanting to think about the what ifs. Just then a gunshot rang out, followed by a very manly cry, then another gunshot, surprising the three outside. Michael was quicker to react though as he disarmed one, hit the other over the head with the gun, shot one, then shot the other. Just as he was about to head in the direction they had taken Miro, he saw her run out to him. She tossed him the keys and told him to go, about to run off towards the neighboring fence.

He quickly grabbed her by her arm. "You don't expect me to just leave you?"

"I got Ramon. The other one was there too but he ran off. He's a big dude. I can probably catch him but you need to get away from here. Use the alleys. Cops might be on their way with silent sirens."

"Wait-"

"I'll meet you four blocks over. Go!" she wiggled her arm free and hopped the fence.

He wasted no time in taking off. "Eventful nights Michael, eventful nights," he shook his head. Just as he rounded the corner, he could see those distinctive red and blue lights in the distance. "Not for me," he sighed. Almost right on time, he saw someone coming out of an alley and only recognized it to be her by the half bun on her head. Pulling up, she hopped in the car, and they drove off.

"Well wasn't that fun," she slumped in the seat, a little out of breath.

"Please don't tell me this is an average night for you."

"Oh no no no," she waved her hand at him. "But it has been one of the more exciting ones. Hey, mind if we stop by that empty lot?" she pointed up ahead.

He nodded, pulling into the lot. They both got out and took a breather.

"Ugh glad that's over with. Felt like I was fighting an angry memory foam mattress," she stretched before hunching over slightly, rubbing her abdomen. "But man, that fucker punched me hard. Still feel winded."

"He hit you? Are you alright?" Michael approached.

"Yeah yeah," she assured, straightening out. "I've dealt with worse. Not the first time a guy's been a little too rough," she smirked before laughing at her own crusty joke. "I'm sorry that was terrible."

"What's this?" he cupped the side of her face, tilting it back just slightly before running his thumb across her cheekbone.

"Wha-"

He held his hand out in front of her face, showing her the blood on his finger.

"Ah, thanks! Do I have any more? Can't exactly be walking around with blood on my face."

With his thumb and index finger to her chin, his grip was feathery light as he examined her face for any more splatters of blood. Her gaze was off to the side, allowing him to simply take her in as she stood before him. Beautiful and extremely deadly.

"Nope, all good," he stepped back.

"Awesome! Shall we get going my good sir?"

"After you," he nodded, opening the door for her.

"Oo what a classy gentleman," she grinned.

"I try," he shrugged nonchalantly. Taking off, he inquired about their next destination, having mentally prepared himself to play getaway driver. He was surprised at his own slight disappointment when she said she was done for the night and that they could head back to his place, seeing as how he didn't have a car. Considering how they were coming out of East LS, he figured it'd be too much of a hassle for them to head back to his place only for her to have to head back to the pier _and then_ off to wherever she lived, or whatever place afterwards. He left no room for argument, they'd part halfway at the pier, and he'd take a cab home from there.

"Are cabs even out this late?"

"Are you kidding? We're entering the first set of peak hours when the beginning lot of drunks start wobbling out of bars. It'd be a surprise if they _weren't_ out this late," he chuckled as they entered the lot, parking the car nearly exactly where they first got it.

Stepping out to enjoy the night air, they hung out by the car while waiting for his cab to arrive. She sat on the trunk while he leaned against it next to her while they chatted about minor things, a sort of wrap of to their rather eventful day. It went from her trying to kill him, to almost actually nearly killing him, to him following her, to him becoming her chauffeur, then accomplice, then finally getaway driver. All the while learning some info about her and spilling some beans about himself as well.

"Hey about earlier, I'm really sorry to have just thrown that on you. It's a big load and I just-"

"No no it's fine," she assured with a smile and wave of her hand. "Everyone's got a story, and I don't mind hearing about it. I rather enjoy it actually. Plus there's always that feeling when sharing with a stranger of, like, no consequence and no accountability – something that's always kinda present when dealing with 'friends' and family. When you talk to a family member they tend to recall the actions you've taken in the past and use that to predict the outcome of future actions you are likely to take. They also tend to add in _their_ hopes and dreams for you and what they hope will happen with your relationship with _them_. This, to some extent, guides the advice they give you. Sharing with a stranger is easier and more impartial because a stranger doesn't have any preconceived notions about your past or future plus you will likely never see them again."

That… made a lot of sense.

"Man, I know you're a doctor doctor and all, but I didn't know you could get all psycho-analytical with me," he lightly joked, glancing at her.

"Heh sorry about that. Just speaking from some experience. I've been around a lot and talked to enough passing strangers to have learned a thing or two about myself."

"Interesting stories to tell?"

"Heh, I could write a whole fucking book about my stories."

"Awesome. Tell me one during dinner."

What- She watched him as he pushed himself upright. His cab was pulling up.

"Michael I was kidding," she couldn't help the small smile.

"And I was _not_." Before she could protest he continued. "I've got this feeling I'm going to be seeing more of you and well after today, I dare say we're friends now."

"Ew that's gross," she made a cheeky face.

" _You_ dragged me into this," he pointed a finger at her, amusement in his eyes.

"Because _you_ followed," she met his finger with her own.

He chuckled, slowly starting to back towards the cab, "I'll see you around."

With a playful scoff she gave him a wave as he finally departed, leaving her alone on the trunk of the car with the faint sounds of music coming from the direction of the food truck. With a content sigh, she hopped off and made her way towards the truck, being greeted by Hector.

"Noticed you out by the car with that guy," he prepared a plate for her and handed it through the door.

"Yeah we just got here and waited for his cab," she immediately started picking at the meat.

"Don't do it," she heard him say just as she turned her back.

"Don't do what?" she glanced over her shoulder, eyeing him skeptically.

"Don't do it," he repeated with a grin and slight shake of his head, not looking at her as he made some orders.

"Neh, déjame en paz (leave me alone)," she waved at him dismissively, closing the door behind her and leaving him chuckling to himself.

* * *

The next morning, Michael was greeted to quite the surprise when he stepped out of his house. At his doorstep was a heavy looking duffel bag with a note taped atop the zipper. Skeptical as hell, he looked around at his empty property before slowly bending down to read the note.

' _Thanks for keeping me company last night. Also sorry about your car – V'_

V… Vianey? No way.

He immediately opened the bag…

No fucking way!

He stood, not believing the contents of the bag. It was fucking full of cash! But how? _Why?_ Surely it wasn't because of last night. Noo, why would she?

In his state of shock and disbelief, his eyes would have nearly disregarded the small object sitting on top the fat stacks of cash if it weren't for the tiny glare hitting the corner of his eye.

Looking down once again…

"No. _Fucking_. Way," he picked up the object, a set of car keys. Pressing the alarm button, he heard a car go off right outside his gate. Stepping out, he was greeted to a black Dewbauchee Exemplar parked in front of his house. He had absolutely no words.

How did she…

 _When_ did she…

Why…

How did she even fucking know where he lived was a huge question as well.

Pulling out his phone, he needed to talk to her right away. Going through his contacts, he stopped, thumb hovering over the screen as the realization hit him.

"Fuck."

He didn't have her number.


End file.
